


Navel Gazing

by sabaceanbabe



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Chuck (TV)
Genre: Challenge: A Ficathon Walks Into A Bar, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-14
Updated: 2010-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-13 05:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabaceanbabe/pseuds/sabaceanbabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Big Mike needs relationship advice, but is Kara Thrace really the one to give it?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Navel Gazing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the recent challenge at [](http://community.livejournal.com/intoabar/profile)[**intoabar**](http://community.livejournal.com/intoabar/). Spoilers through season four of BSG and Chuck vs. the Cubic Zirconium. Thank you to [](http://bets-cyn.livejournal.com/profile)[**bets_cyn**](http://bets-cyn.livejournal.com/) and [](http://jebbypal.livejournal.com/profile)[**jebbypal**](http://jebbypal.livejournal.com/) for the quick beta.

Kara Thrace walked into a no-name bar at the ass-end of the universe. Tiny on the outside, it turned out to be a lot larger than expected on the inside. Her vision took only a second or three to adjust to the dim lighting; her hearing a little longer to accept the sudden assault of raised voices and what was probably music, although it was so frakking loud she felt it more than heard it. There was literally only one vacant seat in the place as far as she could see, right at the corner of the very long bar, and so she took it, catching the bartender’s eye as she approached. The woman nodded and raised a hand to indicate she’d be with Kara soon.

Shrugging out of the top half of her flight suit, Kara let it fall to hang around her hips as she straddled the padded barstool. Flying a double shift on CAP had been hell and if she had to deal with one more frakking idiot who thought he knew better than she did how to fly a Viper, she was going to be forced to hurt someone. Even if it was only for her own amusement.

On the other edge of the bar’s corner, a large, dark-skinned man sucked the last of his drink up through a curly straw, slurping a bit at the end to get the last possible drop. He wore a short-sleeved shirt, a tie, and a vest with something embroidered on it, but the lighting was too uncertain for her to read it.

“Best Fuzzy Navel I’ve had this side of Atlanta,” the man observed with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, although his voice was friendly enough.

“Fuzzy Navel? Not the best name for a drink.” Of course, calling fermented algae “ambrosia” didn’t exactly make _that_ any more palatable, even if it was about the right shade of green…

“It’s got Peach Schnapps and orange juice and I don’t know what else,” he said, “but they sure are tasty.” He held out his hand to Kara, his smile no longer quite so distant. “Mike Tucker. My friends call me Big Mike.” His hand engulfed hers as he shook it enthusiastically.

“Nice to meet you, Big Mike. I’m Kara Thrace, but you can call me Starbuck.” He said something in response, but it got lost in the thumping bass. She leaned in closer. “Come again?”

Before he could say anything, the bartender arrived. “What’ll you have?” she asked as she gave a cursory swipe with a towel to the bar in front of Kara and Big Mike.

On impulse, Kara answered, “A Fuzzy Navel. And bring my friend here another one, too.”

Big Mike smiled, a little more heart in it this time, although it quickly faded into something more melancholy. “Why thank you kindly, Starbuck. I am truly touched.”

She shrugged. “You look like you could use it, Big Mike.”

“That I can. That I surely can.”

:: :: ::

A couple of hours and several Fuzzy Navels later, Kara’s laughter rang out over the bar, momentarily stopping conversation in the immediate vicinity as the other patrons wondered what was so funny. It didn’t last long, only a couple of seconds before conversation picked back up, and the music never stopped.

After she stopped laughing and caught her breath, she asked, “You’re not asking _me_ for relationship advice, are you?” Big Mike just looked at her, his expression earnest and a little wounded. “Frak me. You really are.” She took another sip of her drink and shook her head. “Mike, that’s like asking for fashion advice from Leoben Conoy.”

“Who’s Leoben Conoy?”

“Someone who shouldn’t be allowed to dress himself.” When Big Mike still looked confused, she added, “Never mind. All right, hit me. Maybe we’ll get lucky and it’ll be an easy question.”

Big Mike downed the rest of his Fuzzy Navel like it was a shot of Chief Tyrol’s rotgut that he was using for liquid courage. He’d long since dispensed with the straw. “It’s Bolonia,” he began, staring at his hands as he pushed his empty glass back and forth between them. Left right left right left right left Kara was mesmerized by the way the neon lights were captured and refracted by the angles of the glass, red and gold and blue. She shook her head to dispel the image.

“Bolonia. Your girlfriend.” Big Mike had already told her quite a bit about the amazing Bolonia Garcia Bougainvillea Grimes.

“Starbuck, Starbuck, Starbuck. Bolonia is no ‘girl.’ She’s all woman. She is—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kara did not want to listen, _again_ , to Big Mike waxing poetic about Bolonia’s womanly virtues. She waved her hand at the bartender, two fingers raised; the woman nodded and began to mix two more Fuzzy Navels. “So. You wanted to ask me something about Bolonia,” she prompted.

“Well, you see, Starbuck, it’s not so much about Bolonia. It’s about her son,” Big Mike began, but then stopped, looking troubled.

Kara nodded. “Brats…” She winced, hearing Helo’s ghostly voice in her imagination pointing out that not all kids were spoiled creatures to be wary of. “I mean kids can make or break any relationship. How old is the little guy?” If it was still young enough, maybe it could be trained…

“Oh, Morgan’s not _that_ little. Maybe next to Bartowski or Casey, even Barnes…” He shuddered but then looked up when the bartender arrived with the next round, accepting his drink with a smile. “No, Starbuck, Morgan is like a son to me. I respect the boy and I’d like to keep _his_ respect, especially in regard to his dear, sweet mama.”

“Wait a minute.” Kara frowned, trying to parse the conversation, which was starting to get away from her. “His respect?” Maybe Big Mike wasn’t talking about a child, after all. She took another swallow of her drink, straining it between her teeth so that it bathed her tongue, allowing the tart-sweetness of it to linger. It took her a second to realize that Big Mike was talking, and had been for the entire time she’d been contemplating how much she liked the taste of peaches and oranges.

“—respect of someone who used to be my employee, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s the manager of the Buy More now.” He stopped, looked at Kara owlishly, clearly waiting for her to say something, but all Kara could think about at the moment was that the tip of her nose had gone numb.

In the face of her silence, Big Mike plunged on. “No, you’re right. That is exactly the kind of straight-forward thinking the El Segundo School of Finance tries to teach its students. I should talk to Morgan directly. There isn’t anyone I’d rather work for than my Bolonia’s little boy.”

He picked up his drink and Kara’s gaze was drawn to the concentric circles of moisture it left behind on the bar: watery blue, red, yellow. She stared, mesmerized, the buzz of the music and conversation melding in her brain into an equally watery haze, until her eyes began to burn. She blinked and suddenly the water spot was just a shiny ring on the bar’s surface. Big Mike thumped his glass down, rattling the ice against the glass, making Kara jump.

“Starbuck, you are brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.” Big Mike pushed off from the bar, nearly overturning his barstool in the process. He stood, swaying slightly. “I need to tell Bolonia exactly how I feel about her and I need Morgan to understand just how important his mama is to me. It’s time for me to make her an offer.”

Kara blinked. She was pretty sure she hadn’t contributed much to the conversation. In fact, she didn’t recall saying anything at all. Frowning, she looked down into her empty glass. Who knew something called “Fuzzy Navel” could be so potent? She tried to remember what Big Mike had said was in them, smiling at the thought of what trouble she and Sam could get into with peaches and orange juice.

By the time she looked up again, Big Mike was gone.


End file.
